


the time to hesitate is through

by bisexualfpjones



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: AU, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Riverparents, airport bathroom sex, blowjob, marys sprinkled in throughout, parentdale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:14:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26223982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bisexualfpjones/pseuds/bisexualfpjones
Summary: He makes a quick decision and hopes for the best. There’s a new picture coming up now, somebody different, and Fred frowns at his phone wondering what he just did.“So, is that a hard no, then?” Comes a voice a few seats away, causing Fred to startle.He looks up to the source and… there’s no way. The guy on his phone is suddenly right there in real life, looking every bit as delectable as his profile photo even if he is, sadly, more clothed.orfred's first foray into online dating
Relationships: Fred Andrews/FP Jones II
Comments: 8
Kudos: 30





	the time to hesitate is through

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: i know nothing about dating apps i have far too much anxiety to ever use one and thats where serial killers live. so. also this fic is dedicated to every harringrove smut fic ive ever read. without them, i could not do this. thank you for your bravery.
> 
> fic title from light my fire - the doors

He never takes a plane. It’s not that he’s _afraid_ of flying. It’s just… he’s never been off the ground before. In his youth his father drove them everywhere. Firmly believed no place was far enough to warrant airfare. So Fred had just learned to go along with that. And by the time he could start making his own choices, he’d grown too used to driving. And, admittedly, there was something unsettling about a plane. Something about being way up in the sky that unnerved him.

But his truck’s on the fritz and he hasn’t gotten around to fixing up, so there was no way he was gonna make it to Chicago on that thing. 

He’s made the trip every summer since the divorce. Takes Archie to go visit Mary for a few weeks while school’s out. Fred always stays a few days with them to catch up with his ex-wife (the marriage may not have lasted, but the two had ended on amicable terms and decided even if their union had ended, there was no reason their friendship had to).

Now he was sitting in the airport. Alone. His flight delayed because of an oncoming storm. 

He kept his breathing even despite his jittering leg, a dead giveaway of his nerves. _It’s fine. It’s just some rain. We’ll be back up and running in no time._ He repeats to himself over and over. It’s working. Almost. 

He pulls out his phone instead, hoping something on there will be a better distraction. There’s not much use there, though, without Archie around to guide him. Fred still can’t work a smartphone. Still complains there’s no reason for a touchscreen or to have access to a million apps that just waste time. He’s kinda wishing he at least had a few now, though. 

He figures he can open up Facebook, see if Mary’s posting any pictures yet, check in on what he’s missed back at home while he’s been away, but as his thumb hovers over the little blue icon his gaze shifts to the one next to it.

It happened the first night of this trip. Archie had gone to bed and Fred and Mary decided to stay up, chat, share a glass or two (or three) of wine. Somehow they’d gotten onto the subject of Fred’s love life, or lack thereof, and when Mary heard the last time he had sex was when they were _married_ she decided to take matters into her own hands, so to speak. 

Despite his many protests, she grabbed his phone from him and set him up a profile on some dating app, telling him _”You need to have some fun, Fred. No one’s looking for a commitment on these things. But you need to keep your equipment… well-oiled.”_

Fred thought his “equipment” was just _fine_. He wasn’t one for a random hook-up. Not these days, anyway. Sure, he’d had his fun in his younger years, before marriage and fatherhood. But he was a different person now. Older. Mature. Responsible. He couldn’t just go cavorting around like that.

But the app was already on his phone and the profile was already set up. And he had time to waste. And _maybe_ it wouldn’t hurt to at least _see_ what was out there for him, not having been on a date in some 20 odd years. So he takes a deep breath, taps the screen and watches the page load. 

He tries to remember Mary walking him through how to use it. It seemed simple enough, just scrolling through people’s pictures, read a little blurb about them. He had argued how was he supposed to know anyone based on things like their favorite musician or love of hiking, but Mary had reminded him that most of the people he’d come across were only looking for one night stands and that Fred didn’t need to know their moral alignment for that. 

It wasn’t like he was even looking for a hook-up now anyway. What were the chances of anyone in this airport matching up with him in the first place? And even if there _was_ somebody… he wasn’t ready for that. He’d only be in Chicago for a few more hours. He didn’t have to message these people. Or respond. But maybe that was mean… He didn’t want to be rude. 

The first picture that comes up piques his interest, though. Some guy around Fred’s age standing in a bathroom, posed in the mirror with his shirt off, which normally Fred would scoff at but he’s too busy being transfixed by the flat plane of his stomach, the trail of dark hair leading from just under his belly button down to what looks like a pair of black briefs. 

His mouth waters a little at the sight and he tries to subtly shift in his seat. He thinks he can spot some ink on the guy’s ribs, but that part of the picture is too shadowed to make out anything concrete. Makes Fred want to know about it even more. 

His eyes finally travel north to the guy’s face, and Fred’s met with a stare that he can only describe as alluring. Like the guy knows exactly what he wants and is daring the person looking back to give it to him. 

It makes Fred feel a little self-conscious about his own profile photo. Mary had tried scrolling through his phone for his “hottest” picture, but Fred’s not one for selfies and most of his camera roll is filled with Archie anyway, so the best Mary could land on was a picture he had taken with Archie right before one of his dances (with Archie cropped out, of course). Fred had thought he looked too goofy, but Mary had assured him it was fine. He suddenly no longer believes her. 

There’s no way the guy on the screen would be interested in him. 

Fred looks for a name. _FP_ is all it says, with a quick bio underneath that simply reads _Here for a good time, not a long time_ , and, really, it should maybe raise some red flags, but dammit if Fred’s not tempted. Fred tries to remember what Mary had told him about navigating this thing. He was supposed to swipe right if he liked somebody. Or maybe it was left. Up? 

He makes a quick decision and hopes for the best. There’s a new picture coming up now, somebody different, and Fred frowns at his phone wondering what he just did. 

“So, is that a hard no, then?” Comes a voice a few seats away, causing Fred to startle. 

He looks up to the source and… there’s no way. The guy on his phone is suddenly right there in real life, looking every bit as delectable as his profile photo even if he is, sadly, more clothed. And Fred apparently just _rejected_ him. _Stupid, friggen technology_ , he thinks. _We should’ve just stuck to flip phones._

“Oh! No. Um. I mean-” He’s humiliated. How’s Fred supposed to explain that yes, he’d very much like to … _whatever_... with this guy, he’s just an idiot who swiped the wrong direction? “It was an accident,” he says, voice gone quiet with embarrassment as he shrinks a little in his seat, tries to cover the shame up with a small laugh like maybe that’ll make everything better.

FP laughs, and it’s not mean or mocking. It’s like he’s amused, in a good way, at Fred’s technological impairments. “So, that mean I still have a shot?” he asks, leaning on the arm of the chair towards Fred, leering but somehow unthreatening. 

Fred can’t look away.

“I’d say that’s a possibility, yes,” Fred says, finding his tongue. 

“A possibility?” FP quirks an eyebrow. “You playin’ hard to get?”

 _No,_ Fred thinks. He’s ready and willing to go right here in front of the entire airport, but he doesn’t want to come across too eager. He’s finding some of his old confidence, though. Sits up a little straighter, squares his shoulders back. “No. But maybe I could use a little persuading.”

FP’s eyes light up at the invitation, smiles wide as his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek. “Follow me and I’ll show you how persuasive I can be.” And then he’s getting up, heading off to God knows where. 

Fred knows this is the moment for him to either sink or swim. He watches FP go, jitters a little in his seat while he contemplates if he’s _really_ about to go fuck a complete stranger. 

Apparently, he is. Because next thing he knows he’s up and following FP, trying not to lose him in the crowd. 

He’s led to the men’s restroom, which, he should’ve seen that coming. He gets there just in time to see FP duck into one of the stalls. Fred waits a second, wanting the room to clear out lest anyone see him joining, sure to be a dead giveaway of what’s about to happen. He uses the time as one last chance to think about if he really wants to go through with this. Checks over his shoulder at the exit and thinks he could just leave…

Except, he doesn’t want to. And when he’s finally the only one left out in the open he makes a beeline for the stall he saw FP enter. 

“Was beginning to think you ditched me,” FP says, leaving no room for Fred to respond as he grabs the back of his neck and pulls him into a kiss. 

It catches him off guard. Fred hasn’t been kissed like this in he can’t even remember how long. It’s hot and quick and somehow _obscene_ for just a _kiss_. The guy knows how to use his tongue, Fred’ll give him that. 

It’s easy to get lost in, and he almost does, until he feels hands at the front of his jeans and the sound of his belt clanking undone fills the small space of the bathroom stall. And suddenly Fred’s shot right back into the current reality of his situation and what he’s about to do. 

He brings his hands up to the front of FP’s shirt, fists the fabric in his fingers as he pushes FP away. Not far enough to lose any contact, but enough that he gets the point to slow down. 

“What’s wrong?” FP asks, brows scrunched together and lips swollen and slick with spit from kissing. Fred can’t help but think there’s something adorable about the image before him. Immediately followed by the thought that maybe _adorable_ isn’t the right word for this setting.

“Nothing,” Fred says through heavy breaths. “I just- I’m a little out of my element here.”

FP backs away slowly, in what little space the bathroom stall will allow, and Fred has to fight a whimper at the loss of the weight that was pressing to him just a few moments ago. 

“Out of your element like,” and FP waves a finger around, gesturing to their surroundings. “Or out of your element like you’ve never been with a guy before?” 

He says it like he’s waiting for rejection. Like he thinks maybe this is just some experiment for Fred and he got in way over his head and wants to bail. And god that couldn’t be further from the truth. 

“No! No, I’ve- I’ve definitely been with guys before.” Fred blushes. “It’s just the whole having-sex-with-a-stranger-in-a-bathroom thing is kind of foreign.”

“We don’t have to-”

“No!” Fred blurts. _So much for not seeming eager._ But there’s an amused little smile creeping on FP’s face that makes Fred think maybe it’s not such a bad thing after all. “I want to. I just… need a little direction.”

FP smirks, pushing off the opposite wall and sauntering over to get back in Fred’s space. His hands find the front of Fred’s jeans again, albeit moving at a much slower pace this time. “Leading’s not usually my forte,” he admits, eyes never leaving Fred’s as he pops the button open and slides down his zipper. “But, for you, I’m willing to make an exception.”

And before Fred has a chance to respond FP’s on his knees, long fingers wrapped around Fred’s cock pulling him out of his boxers. Fred hopes he’s not wearing the ones with cartoon prints on them. _Shit._ He should’ve thought this through. 

“Fuck, you’re big,” FP says, voice gone low and breathy. 

Fred guesses that means he didn’t pick embarrassing underwear today. Or, at least, not embarrassing enough to be a distraction. 

“Is that a bad thing?” Fred asks, voice a little shaky.

FP chuckles, smirks as he looks up at Fred. “Definitely not,” he says right before leaning forward to lick at the tip of Fred’s dick. 

It’s a small movement, just a tease of what’s to come, but Fred feels like his brain is already short circuiting. It’s been too long. He feels like he’s 14 again, too full of hormones and too inexperienced to last very long. But he _refuses_ to come yet. He’d be _mortified_. 

He bites down on his fist as FP gets his mouth around him, that wet heat instantly intoxicating. He wants to shout, it feels so good. He opts, instead, for biting harder into his fist, surprised he hasn’t yet broken skin. His other hand searches for FP’s hair, and he’s rewarded with a throaty little moan from the other man when his fingers curl tight into it. 

Just as Fred’s eyes flutter shut, he feels FP’s mouth slide off of him. He opens his eyes, sees FP staring up at him with bright eyes while he continues stroking Fred’s cock. 

“This okay?” FP asks.

All Fred can form in response is a laxed “Yeah,” the hand formerly in his mouth falling to his side. 

FP catches a glimpse of it, must notice the deep bite marks embedded in the skin. He takes Fred’s hand gingerly in his, brings it up to his lips to place a soft kiss there. Fred thinks the moment feels out of place, too soft for what they’re currently doing. But he also… doesn’t mind. Not when FP’s looking up at him like he is. 

“You’re gonna hurt yourself, baby,” he says, interlacing their fingers together presumably to keep Fred from biting himself again. Fred’s not complaining. Can only stare down in awe and wonder who the hell this guy is and where has he been Fred’s whole life. 

Then he’s placing a kiss to Fred’s thigh, trails them along with an open mouth until he reaches the base of Fred’s dick, up the shaft before swallowing him down.

Fred’s body tenses. FP gives his hand a squeeze, like he’s saying _It’s okay. I can take it._ And Fred squeezes back, mouth falling slack. He’s so close, can feel the heat rising up in his belly. 

“Fuck, I’m close,” he whispers, voice strained. 

FP’s head bobs a few more times before pulling off completely, and Fred already misses that mouth on him. Knows he’ll be thinking about it for longer than he’s ready to admit. 

FP stands up, grabs Fred’s shoulders and spins them around so it’s now his back pressed up against the stall. He crashes their lips together and Fred can taste himself on FP’s tongue. It’s so fucking hot. 

FP kisses along Fred’s jaw, leaves a little bite that has Fred bucking his hips forward. When FP reaches Fred’s ear he sticks his tongue out to flick the lobe before pressing his lips close. “Do you wanna fuck me?” he asks, voice rough and husky and yeah, Fred _wants_.

“Yes,” Fred answers. He’s so quiet he doesn’t even know if FP heard him. But he must’ve, because with a devious glint in his eye he’s turning around, working on his own belt now as he presses his ass back against Fred’s crotch. 

Fred can’t help it. His hands fly to FP’s hips, gripping tight and keeping FP close as he leans forward to suck a bruise to the man’s neck.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” FP says, a hand reaching back to rake his fingers through Fred’s hair. 

Fred laughs, pressing the sound to the skin of FP’s neck. “I think I’m getting a good handle on it now.”

FP hums and reaches into the inside of his jacket, pulls out a small packet of lube and hands it over to Fred. “You know how to use this, right?” he teases.

Fred pinches the skin on his hip, and it only makes FP push further back against him. “Watch it,” he growls in FP’s ear. He doesn’t know where the sudden boost of confidence came from, but FP certainly seems to be enjoying it, at least. 

“God you’re fucking sexy.”

Fred rips the packet open with his teeth, gets his fingers nice and slick before reaching down to trace FP’s hole. He slips a finger in to the first knuckle, let’s FP adjust to the intrusion before pulling out and sliding back in, deeper this time.

FP’s got his hands braced on the wall in front of him, fingers curling against the metal as Fred slips a second finger in. 

“This good?” Fred asks, torn between looking at the pleasure on FP’s face and how he pushes back to fuck himself on Fred’s fingers. 

FP licks his lips, nodding his head. “Yeah… yeah. Just-” His breath hitches when Fred curls his fingers just right, his body clenching up around them. “ _Fuck._ Just want you inside me.”

“Right. Yeah. Okay,” Fred says, suddenly feeling nervous again. Just hopes he doesn’t _sound_ it, but FP seems too lost in his own world to be paying much attention. 

Fred slides his fingers out of FP and searches for his wallet, remembering back to a few days ago when he had found a condom he definitely didn’t put there himself.

_”Trust me, Fred,” Mary had said when confronted about it. “You’ll thank me later.”_

He hadn’t believed her at the time, but he’s certainly grateful now. 

He rolls it on and slicks himself up with what’s left of the lube in the packet. He takes the time to fully appreciate the view in front him; the supple swell of FP’s ass, on display just for him. It makes Fred’s mouth water, wishes he could take a bite out of it. Another time, another place maybe… He settles on a firm grab, fingers digging into the meat all rough and possessive, like it’s somehow _his_ despite FP being a total stranger to him.

FP seems okay with that, though, pushing back into Fred’s grip and letting out a low groan. “Please,” he says, and something about that little display of submission has heat coursing through Fred’s veins. 

And Fred’s not a sadist, not _really_ , and he already feels like he’s about to explode out of his own skin. Doesn’t see the point in making either one of them wait any longer. So he keeps one hand on FP’s hip to anchor him, uses the other to line his cock up and sink in to that tight heat. _Slow_. Always careful. 

He hears FP hiss and pauses. “You okay?” he asks, full of concern.

FP’s hand hangs between where his arms are posted on the wall in front of him, but he nods. “Yeah. Yeah. I can take it. Keep going.”

So Fred does. _Slower_. Leans forward to mouth the back of FP’s neck, give him something to focus on besides the sting of being stretched.

He sighs as he bottoms out, breath ghosting FP’s skin, and he can see the little goosebumps rising. FP reaches back, his hand finding Fred’s shirt where it’s bunched at his waist, and holds tight, pulling at the fabric as what Fred takes as a gesture to mean _move_. 

Fred begins to thrust, keeps his movements deliberate. Wants FP to feel every inch of him. Wants to give him something to _remember_.

He’s also afraid of being too _loud_. The sounds of people traveling in and out of the bathroom haven’t gone unnoticed, and he’s all too aware they’re only one wrong move away from getting caught. Which, he feels pretty safe having his ex wife be a lawyer, but having to explain a public indecency charge isn’t really high on the list of things he wants to do. She’d never let him hear the end of it.

The sounds coming out of FP’s mouth certainly aren’t doing anything to keep their secret. Not that he’s _loud_ , but he’s definitely _vocal_ , and for as much as it makes Fred nervous, it’s also got him bucking his hips a little harder, a little faster, wishing he could coax those sounds out of FP in a place where they didn’t have to be so quiet. 

“You’re gonna get us caught,” Fred whispers in FP’s ear, a hand coming up to cover FP’s mouth out of reflex. He briefly wonders if maybe that was too far, if he’s crossed some sort of invisible boundary of what he is and isn’t allowed to do. But FP’s tossing his head back to rest on Fred’s shoulder and lets out this obscene moan, and Fred thinks FP likes what he’s doing just fine. 

Fred snakes his other hand around FP’s waist to get to his cock. Rubs his thumb along the pre collecting at the tip. FP’s _dripping_ from his cock going neglected for as long as it has, and Fred doesn’t waste any more time before stroking his length. 

He can feel FP’s heavy breaths on his hand, can feel the vibrations of every sound that comes out of his mouth. Fred turns his head to nuzzle his nose in FP’s hair, his hand stroking in time with his thrusts, and the way FP finds the balance between pushing back on Fred’s cock and pushing forward to fuck into his fist is enough to drive him crazy. 

It’s been so long since he’s touched anybody like this. Since _he’s_ been touched like this. He doesn’t want to go back to being without it. Fred’s not naive enough to think anything more is gonna come from this one interaction, but still. It’s enough to at least have opened a door Fred thought was long since closed. 

Fred can feel that coil low in his belly ready to spring, his hips moving more erratic. “I’m gonna come,” he says, low against FP’s ear. FP mumbles something into his hand that Fred thinks was _me, too_ , but he’s not sure. His mind’s too foggy to make much sense of anything right now. 

But he must’ve been right, because before long he feels FP spilling over onto his hand. Fred strokes FP through his orgasm, his own following close behind. 

His head falls to FP’s shoulder, and the two just stand there for a bit catching their breaths, FP’s hand slowly falling from where it was clenched in Fred’s shirt, and Fred already misses him.

FP turns around, and Fred can see for the first time the thin sheen of sweat that covers his features, the way his eyes are still glazed over, and the smile on his face that Fred can only describe as _dopey_ , but in the best way. 

“And to think we almost missed out on that,” FP says, and Fred can’t help but huff out a laugh before leaning in to kiss him. It’s soft now. Softer than it was before. Fred thinks it’s just because they’re both spent. Doesn’t want to make up some other reason and get his hopes up.

“Definitely would’ve been a shame,” Fred says as he pulls back.

They take a moment to clean themselves up, get their clothing situated, but once they’re done neither make a move to leave. It’s like reality has settled in and they realize the only thing left to do is leave. 

Fred doesn’t know what to say. Just leaving seems rude, but trying to come up with any form of goodbye seems too proper for what they’ve just done. Are they just supposed to shake hands? Call it a day?

“So, I was thinking-” FP starts, and it gets Fred’s heart beating a little faster in his chest. But he’s cut off by the intercom system overhead. A voice announcing that flight 380 to Riverdale has been postponed till morning because of the storm.

“Oh, great,” Fred grouses. 

“That your flight, too?” FP asks. His eyes have a little twinkle in them when Fred looks.

“Yeah… I- Is that where you’re going?” FP nods, and that hope Fred was trying to squash before rears its head again.

“Looks like we don’t have to say goodbye after all,” FP says, like he could read Fred’s mind.

“Guess not.” Fred smiles as FP leans in closer, gently cupping Fred’s jaw as their lips meet. 

FP playfully bites at Fred’s bottom lip as he pulls away, his hand still holding Fred’s jaw. “So, what do you say to dinner? And maybe getting a room for the night?”

That’s just about the best damn offer Fred’s ever had. Internally he’s jumping for joy, fist raised in the air in victory. He’s gotta send Mary a thank you card. 

Outwardly, he remains cool and collected. A little. He can’t help the dorky smile that spreads across his face when he’s this happy.

“I’d say that sounds like a plan.”

**Author's Note:**

> if someone else wrote fredsythe butt sex i wouldnt have to so... you have no one to blame but yourselves. comments and kudos are still very much appreciated tho :) (i wrote 4k words of porn like... love me please)


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